poetic violence
Poetry can only be violence, it must be pure violence, and it definitively misses its object when it renounces its being violence, because then it detaches itself and abandons the human
Is there such a thing as a "useful war"? Are there bloody skirmishes that constitute progress or an advantage for one or the other of the belligerents?
Even alone, one may not be in tune with one's inner self. We are too afraid that it is a crime. Fortunately there is the mask to help us be.
First sleepless night. I have become accustomed to seeing my nights as a succession of hours and not as a whole stretch that opposes the day.
...voluntarily alone and totally naked, left to oneself, a few kilometers away from a city that one is preparing not to flee, but to invest...
Demanding, demanding, demanding | A look at the declinations at the root of an artistic involvement in the creation of projects
Nightmares and Iconographic Terrors or The Risks of the Spectator's Life. To emerge victorious implies at least not having fought the wrong fight.
Appearance exists, I've met it. At any time, in any place, at any time of my life. Friends, lovers, partners, acquaintances, family...
Making one's existence more "important" to oneself by just a few milliliters of an outrageously dissolved solution of self-knowledge.
Visitors who are happy to undress or put on panoplies, ball gowns or animal skins are expected to inhabit "Les Parques d'attraction"!
I write with my dick and sign a taste trick. Cocoa idol, my phallus becomes edible for those who can suck its meaning.
